


A Night with Misty Mice

by that_one_internet_lover



Category: Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_internet_lover/pseuds/that_one_internet_lover
Summary: For Lyla's 17th birthday, Sean treats her to a night of food, drinks, and a concert of her favorite band ever, Misty Mice. Based on canon events.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, 'cause these notes are gonna be long:  
>   
> I feel like I’m the only one who loves Lyla Park (see, I even already know her last name!) and Sean and Lyla’s best friendship as much as I do. As an Asian American fan, Lyla already means a lot to me, and I felt compelled to write a fic about Sean and Lyla even though the game’s not out yet. Their dynamic is just so fun: constant teasing and joking, lots of banter, and no romantic undertones while still being playful and physically affectionate (I LOVE how it’s implied that they hug regularly-- I love platonic hugs!!!)  
> The idea for this fic came about when I watched Gronkh (a German YouTuber)’s playthrough of the LIS2 demo. He took over seven minutes to read all of Sean and Lyla’s text banter (they clearly go way back and are close!). So because I was so bored, I spent over an hour pausing and typing ALL OF THEIR TEXTS into Google translate from German, writing down everything they said. Out of all of them, this exchange stood out to me:  
> Lyla: (after Sean says he’s too busy to hang out because he has to work) WHY do you have to woooooork?  
> Sean: So I can buy you a Misty Mice ticket. For your birthday. Sorry :)  
> Lyla: WHAT STOP NO WAY  
> Sean: Way.  
> Lyla: OMG I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!! Now I know why you’re my BFF :D :D  
> Sean: U deserve it :) Sometimes  
> That put a huge grin on my face (how SWEET is this boy oh my God), and that night when I couldn’t sleep I ended up writing most of this fic... in my head, thinking of new scenes and then their order in the story, right down to what specific words I’d use in dialogue. I only got 4 hours of sleep, but it was awesome to not have writer’s block anymore. I wanted to originally post this entire thing (19 pages!!!!) on October 1st, 2018, two years after Sean and Lyla go to the concert in canon (which means Lyla’s 19th birthday is coming up _really_ soon, holy shit). But instead, I wanted to post this first chapter now and see what you guys think. Then, I’ll keep posting chapters until October 1st. Let me know your thoughts with a comment, good or bad!  
>  Also, a quick note: I wrote Lyla as gay. I’m not trying to “force” queerness on the new characters, nor do I believe that straight boys and straight girls cannot be as close as Sean and Lyla without being romantically involved. It’s just that Lyla’s character reminds me of Steph Gingrich from BTS (also a nerdy lesbian), and she has a very laid-back attitude towards guys in general that makes me think she’s not attracted to them. Depending on how the game plays out, maybe it’ll be confirmed, denied (if Lyla and Sean do end up together at the very end), or left up to interpretation. Also, I just would love to see more queer Asian characters, especially in gaming.  
> I will be posting more trivia and warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Also, rated T for language, sexual references, mentions of drugs and alcohol, and crude humor.  
>   
> Finally THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR READING MY LONGEST LIS FIC SO FAR! I hope I’m able to spread some of my adoration for these new characters!

Sean had answered hundreds of Skype calls from Lyla before. They ranged from the “after school chat to avoid homework” to “long-distance TV marathon” to even “late-night heart-to-heart.” But this was the first “chat right before the birthday concert of the band Lyla practically worshipped,” and for the first time Sean was a little afraid to answer. His fears proved true when Lyla proceeded to greet Sean with the Super Bowl stadium’s level of excitement. Or, a freshly-turned 17-year-old girl about to see Misty Mice live for the first time’s level of excitement. 

“WHOOOOO’S READY FOR MISTY MIIIIICE?!” Lyla yelled. 

“SHIT!” Sean shouted, and promptly fell off his desk chair. He groaned and rubbed his hip as Lyla burst into hysterics. She was still laughing as Sean sat back in his chair. 

“Fuck you! You promised you wouldn’t kill my eardrums when you answered the call!” Sean protested. 

“You can’t say fuck you to me, you’re the one who got these tickets! But can you blame me?!” Lyla exclaimed. She hadn’t even sat down, just hovering over and pacing in front of her laptop like a six-year-old who’d just eaten a dozen Pixy Stix. 

“Dude, you better not already be baked. Me falling off my chair is not that funny.” 

“I’m high on adrenaline!” Lyla retorted. “Plus, there’s no way I’m going to a show baked. I wanna remember this.” 

Since she was standing up, Sean could see Lyla’s entire outfit, and his eyes widened. Lyla had really gone all out: he already knew she was wearing the pair of Converse with Misty Mice lyrics scrawled all over in multi colored Sharpies. He had helped add a few doodles and patterns on the white sections. But she was also wearing her Misty Mice beanie, Misty Mice leggings, and had drawn a giant black M on each cheek. To top it all off, she was wearing her favorite Misty Mice tee, a black one with the band’s ghostly blue mouse mascot running on top of a purple vinyl record like it was a hamster wheel. It was secondhand, yet had cost $60 at the eBay auction because it was one of the first designs the band designed and printed themselves, back when they had just released their debut EP independently (“One of two hundred!” Lyla had exclaimed over and over after she snagged it). She didn’t even care that it was one size too big and a men’s shirt, and usually wore it with the end knotted by her waist. But she managed to pull off the look, much like anything she wore. 

“What’d you use to paint your face?” Sean asked. He rearranged the letters on his letterboard. Today it spelled out “Weird life,” but he changed it to “Misty Mice 4Ever,” with a smiley face. 

“Oh, this is actually eyeliner,” Lyla said with a laugh. 

“Could you bring it? I could probably draw mice or something on your face if you want. Should only take like fifteen minutes.” 

“Ooh, great idea! Thanks, man.” 

He looked closer, and saw that Lyla had put on four wristbands, all shades of bright purple and blue. “Are those wristbands too?” He asked, turning on his lava lamp. 

“Yep! One from each era. And check these bad boys out.” She held out her hands. 

“Uh, the camera quality’s shit. What is it?” 

“I painted my nails! See, there’s a letter on each finger. Spells out “Misty Mice,” and then there’s this lightning bolt on my pinky.” 

“Very committed. I salute you. I feel like such a noob in just this shirt now.” 

“Nah man, you’re good. That one’s from the debut album era. Earns my seal of approval,” she nodded, combing her fingers through her hair out of restlessness and nerves. 

“Cool. So when are you coming over?” 

“I was gonna eat something first, but how about now? Since you’re gonna be painting my face and stuff.” 

“Sure. Dad said anytime after five is fine. I already dropped Daniel off at Noah’s place, and Dad’s gonna pick him up before dinner, so I’m all free.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen. But I’m bringing makeup remover too just in case. You better not draw a giant dick on my forehead; I’ll know.” 

Sean grinned. “No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, their dialogue is stupidly fun to write, along with making up the details and genre of Misty Mice, from Sean and Lyla's constant swearing (a HUGE shift from writing little kid Max and Chloe right after this) and crude humor to their casual nicknames (Sean calls Lyla “punk” in the game like Max did for Chloe, while of course, Sean is Lyla’s one and only “bitch.” :)). They have a very different dynamic than Max and Chloe, so it was so fun mixing it up and having them make fun of each other once in awhile. Anyway, thanks again for reading and giving the new characters a chance!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The train scene in this chapter is the one I hesitated the most to leave in the story, because this is where Lyla makes her attraction to girls clear and gives Sean some relationship advice. But I hope it's well-received. Anyway, here's chapter 2.

Lyla announced her arrival by rapid-fire mashing the doorbell until Sean called, “Calm your tits, I’m coming!”

“That’s what she said! And don’t ever say ‘calm your tits’ again!” Lyla yelled through the door.

Sean opened the door and snapped, “Lower your damn voice before my neighbors get mad! Brett already hates fucking me!”

He froze, eyes wide. “Oh Christ, I meant--”

Lyla hadn’t even stepped inside yet but was already doubled over laughing like a hyena, wheezing, “Oh my _fucking_ God, just shut the fuck up already!” She looked the same, but was now wearing an open purple flannel over her band tee.

Sean spread his arms out feebly. “Well, you’ll have to see my reincarnation do it. You’re about to witness me die right in front of you. Just take me right now world, I said me and Brett are fucking.”

“Oh my God,” Lyla repeated to herself, heaving a tremendous sigh once her laughter subsided. “I’m so glad I hang out with you.”

“Glad to be of service. And I thought you hated ‘that’s what she said.’”

“I do. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity; that sentence sounded so wrong. But then you just topped yourself with the next one.” Lyla snorted. “Anyway, if you’re wondering about the flannel, the Momster made me put something on over. She said it’s ‘too cold outside.’” She made air quotes and rolled her eyes. As soon as she stepped inside, she took the flannel off and tied it around her waist. “Okay, good to go.”

“Do you wanna just leave that here?” Sean asked.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be wearing anything with this dope shirt, it’s a flannel. At least it looks cool.”

Sean shrugged. “Alright then. Let’s get that makeup on.”

It ended up taking three tries just to draw the first outline of the mouse. The eyeliner was difficult to hold in his larger hand, and having a cheek for a canvas made for a much… fleshier surface, to say the least. Lyla couldn’t speak while Sean was drawing on her, but he could hear all of her sarcastic comments in his head:

_“Damn, Diaz, that’s where nine years of $30 weekly art lessons got you?” Arrrgh._

_“What the fuck kinda tail is that? Looks like a toothpick or the end of a fucking sperm cell.” God damn it. Okay, deep breath and try again._

_“Soooo, is that a mouse leg or a limp skinny dick? Is that what’s on your mind? You have something you wanna tell me, Sean? You know I’ll be cool with it.” Fuck._

“Don’t say it sucks. I already know,” Sean muttered, scowling in aggravation.

“Dude, I can’t even see it. And if it sucks, it’ll be on my face, so no loss to you.”

“Yeah, just my pride. I thought face painting would be easy. Agh, there we go,” Sean grumbled, finally getting an ear right.

“We can’t spend an hour on this. Just fill it in and let’s go.”

Sean groaned in frustration. “Five more minutes. I can draw one mouse, I promise.”

Five minutes later, Sean managed to produce a halfway-decent ghost mouse. He added some drippy shadows, claws, and a tail, and called it done. “Alright, we’re good to go. I hope.”

Lyla used her front-facing camera as a mirror and smiled when she saw it. “Ooh, it looks weird when I smile.” She made a neutral face, looking at it from all angles. Then she smiled up at Sean. “Perfect. Thanks, dude. I hope I impress some people with this.”

“Whew, it wasn’t easy, but I got it done. You’re welcome. Now, ya ready to go?”

Lyla’s entire demeanor changed, as if she’d been zapped with a shot of pure adrenaline. She sprang up from her chair, already grabbing her beanie and bag. “Fuck yeah! MISTY MICE LET’S GOOOO!”

* * *

 

After a twenty-minute walk, they reached the train station. Then it was a few more stops till they reached their venue in Seattle. They swiped their Seattle ORCA cards for trains and buses and Lyla pulled a king-sized bag of M&Ms from her bag to eat while they waited, begrudgingly letting Sean have a few pieces.

The train seats were arranged in groups of four, two seats facing the other two seats, and Sean and Lyla sat across from each other both in the window seats.

Lyla scanned the passengers for any Misty Mice fans. Finally, her gaze settled on someone and she smiled ever so slightly. “Hey, she’s kinda cute.”

Sean turned around to get a look, and luckily the girl was looking at her phone. He could definitely see how Lyla would think she was cute, though; the girl was wearing a band tee over ripped jeans and chunky black combat boots with mud-splattered soles. She leaned back casually against her seat, scrolling. It reminded him of the way Jenn Murphy would sometimes lean back against her chair when she was bored in class. Not that Sean looked often enough at her to memorize that habit, of course. He grimaced at his utter thirstiness before turning back to Lyla.

“Her? I thought you were committed to your boyfriend Daniel,” Sean jabbed with a grin.

“Shut up,” Lyla retorted. “Just let me appreciate pretty girls, okay?”

She looked closer, frowning slightly. “Aw man, she’s wearing a shirt from the Electric Sheep era.”

“Is that a dealbreaker for you? No longer girlfriend material?” Sean asked.

“No way, man. There’s no such thing as a bad Misty Mice song, and any girl who likes Misty Mice is instant girlfriend material. I just didn’t like the techno sound of that album compared to the others.”

“That’s fair. Hey, I want to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“When uh, when you have a crush…”

Lyla smiled in faint amusement. “Hey, I’m not like insta-crushing on her or that ‘love at first sight’ bullcrap. She’s mad cute, though.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. But what do you mean ‘love at first sight?’”

“Like, even if I fall for someone ‘cause they’re ‘hot’ or whatever, it’s really the personality that keeps me invested.” She shoved her bag over onto the seat next to her and tucked one leg up onto her seat. Lyla could never sit right, but she made the excuse of it “being a gay thing.” Sean insisted that didn’t make any fucking sense, but Lyla would always wave him off and call him “uncultured.”

“So how’d you work up the nerve to ask out Carol?” Sean asked.

“Hmm, it really wasn’t that hard. Like, I dunno if it’s different because we were both girls, but it helped that we were already, like, pretty good friends. I kinda just fell for her as our friendship developed. I guess when you really love someone, it doesn't feel like a crush anymore. You just feel totally comfortable around them.”

“And um, do you think the relationship was worth the heartbreak when you broke up?”

Lyla glanced back up at Sean, her slightly squashed chin resting on her tucked kneecap and her brow slightly furrowed. “Yeah, of course. That’s not even a question. I mean, we loved each other, but it just didn’t work out. No hard feelings.”

Lyla and Carol had broken up just after sophomore year ended, and Lyla had to face the entire summer with her grief. Tonight was the happiest Sean had seen Lyla since before their breakup, and it was honestly a relief. He had missed their banter and how easily she used to laugh, whether it was when Sean imitated Daniel, Brett, or even her. Or accidentally said that he and Brett were fucking. Sean cringed internally. Thank God only Lyla had heard that, and he could trust her not to share that fuck-up on social media-- as long as he stayed on her good side. Oh boy...

“You know Sean, if you’ve got a crush…” Lyla started, startling Sean out of his mortified thoughts.

Sean felt his cheeks heat up, an automatic reaction that he’d always hated. It made him feel like one of those anime characters with big pink or red ovals on their cheeks. He might as well wear a giant neon sign around his neck that lit up with a message of “I AM EMBARRASSED” whenever he was.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone,” he snapped. Lyla merely grinned in response, and Sean scowled.

“Anyway, if what you’re asking is how to _make a move_ … Actually, try to gauge it like-- like us. I felt just as comfortable talking to Carol about whatever as I do with you.”

“Well I mean, there’s a reason I’ve called you my best friend for ten years,” Sean replied. “So far you’re the only person I can be totally real with. Not even my dad fills that role.”

“Well, thank you. So, if you feel like that around another person, they should be right for you. Like, I’d totally date you if you were a girl.”

Sean couldn’t help but laugh. “Me as a girl is a little weird to think about, but thanks, I guess. You could’ve just said ‘if I was into guys.’”

“Hey, we’re practically married anyway. You worked 12 fucking hours to earn enough for these tickets, dealing with all those dumbass customers,” Lyla said, smiling. “I dunno if I could make mochas and frappuccinos for 12 hours straight, even if the Starbucks smelled nice.”

“Like I said, you deserve it,” Sean replied, and Lyla’s smile grew wider.

Just then, the girl in the Electric Sheep era shirt put her phone down and made eye contact with Lyla. But instead of glancing away, Lyla smiled at her, holding her gaze, and lifted her hand in a small, casual wave.

“Going to see Misty Mice too?” Lyla called, and Sean turned back around to wave politely. The girl had bright green eyes that were open and inviting, and they stood out against her dark brown skin and natural black hair, which was in cornrows.

The girl smiled, replying, “You know it!”

Without missing a beat, her voice not even faltering, Lyla asked, “Wanna come sit with us?”

As the girl made her way over, she smiled and said, “That mouse on your cheek is so cute.” She sat next to Sean, across from Lyla.

“Oh, this?” Lyla asked, pointing. “My friend Sean here drew them. Clearly he’s applying his talent in the right places.” She glanced over at him with an almost nervous smile.

“That’s really neat, Sean!” The girl said. “I’m Michaela. And honestly, the only thing I can draw is a stick figure.”

“Well, you’ve got that in common with Lyla,” Sean laughed. Lyla’s eyes widened in shock, and a moment later she scrunched up her nose in annoyance at Sean.

“But I always tell everyone, there’s no shame in trying to draw. It’s awesome, everyone should try it,” Sean added. “I’ve been taking art classes since I was seven.”

Lyla giggled nervously like a squirrel, interjecting with a rapid “OKAY-now-that’s-enough-about-that- _hmmmm?_ ”, icicle eyeing Sean with a “shut the actual fuck up right now” look, and started conversing with Michaela.

Sean pulled out his phone. _Dear punk, you’re so fucking welcome for the facepaint. Michaela will for sure remember it when she marries you. Sincerely, your designated wingman,_ he texted to Lyla. As soon as Lyla received it, she looked up at Sean, who just flashed her a big cheesy grin. Luckily, Michaela didn’t see it.

His phone chimed with a new text from Lyla: a single middle finger emoji. Sean snorted in amusement.

As Lyla and Michaela made small talk, Sean zoned out and sketched a few Misty Mice t-shirt designs in his sketchbook, referencing from Google images on his phone. If Jenn made him so nervous he could barely speak, maybe he really didn’t have a chance. Or maybe she wasn’t right for him. Or maybe it wasn’t “love,” just infatuation. Or maybe he was just telling himself that because he couldn’t work up the guts to talk to her. He could probably ask Lyla for more specific advice, but… not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing the LIS2 launch trailer and seeing that Lyla will return in a phone call at least, I'm hopeful she'll have a big role to play in the story! Here is chapter 3, thanks for your patience!  
> Warnings: A few casual mentions of weed.

“Oh man, I’m starved. What kinda food are you down for?” Sean asked. 

Michaela had gotten off at the previous station, preferring the sushi place near there. She would be sitting in a different section than them at the venue, but before they said their goodbyes, Lyla had already gotten her number. On the platform after they’d gotten off the train, Sean couldn’t hide how impressed he was, doing a slow clap while Lyla snickered and curtsied playfully, saying, “Thank you, I know, I know. Lyla the Love Witch has worked her magic once again.” Now they were on the streets of Seattle, looking for a place for dinner. 

“Honestly? If it means getting to the venue quicker, I’d be down for McDonald’s. We really should’ve decided on a place beforehand, though,” Lyla replied. 

Sean froze in his tracks, turning to Lyla as his hand flew to his chest in mock horror. “Who are you?! You were willing to walk sixteen blocks in the rain last year for those Thai ice cream rolls that Eric recommended that you just _heard_ were good and now you’re willing to eat fucking McDonald’s?!” 

“Bitch, it’s Misty Mice. I’d eat a whole jar of expired mayo if it meant I could score front-row tickets.” 

“Okay, okay, fine,” Sean chuckled. “We’ve got about an hour for dinner, but a sit-down place might take too long. How about a step up from McDonald’s and we just get burgers? There’s a place I know about three blocks away.” 

Lyla perked up. “Ooh, that sounds great. It’s too bad we don’t have more time to spare, otherwise I would’ve brought you to a Korean barbeque place.” 

“Are you kidding? Nothing beats your mom’s _bulgogi_. I just wish she’d give out her recipe.” Sean replied, feeling a pang of hunger thinking of those perfectly marinated, even more perfectly seasoned, juicy slices of beef, always served sizzling hot on a black stone plate, with fragrant caramelized onions and sesame seeds sprinkled on top. 

“I already told you, you’re not getting Mom’s secret recipe till your dad shares _his_ secret recipe for those pork _carnitas_. Those should be _illegal_ for how delicious they are.” 

“Ha, nice try. Not gonna happen. Diaz family members only.” Sean said with a grin. 

“Another reason for your cool dad to adopt me!” 

“Nah. You eat too much,” Sean said, then laughed as Lyla punched his shoulder. 

Inside the restaurant, it was warm, buzzing with the sounds of order numbers being shouted, chatter, and sizzling burgers. The restaurant, which was tiny and jam-packed with tables, booths, a bar, and people, was bathed in the aroma of beef patties, fries, and grilled onions. Lyla rubbed her hands in anticipation as they looked over the giant menu board on the wall. 

“Man, I can’t decide. This place is known for their ‘Belgian burgers,’ right?” She asked. 

“Yeah. It’s not exactly a Belgian dish, it’s more inspired by Belgian food.” 

“See, I’ve never had Edam cheese, but it sounds really good. But then there’s that bacon burger, ‘cause bacon is bacon, y’know? Agh… Belgian burger or bacon burger… fuck it. I’m just gonna get both.” 

“Shit, I have no clue how you eat that much. It’s like if I smoked a halebay’s worth of weed everyday, I’d _maybe_ get your level of munchies,” Sean said with a grin. 

“Fuck you. Don’t make me punch you again. Maybe food is just my inanimate soulmate,” Lyla retorted. 

He pulled out his wallet. “Well, looks like I’ve got this one.” 

“Whoa, dude, what?” 

“Uh… I’m paying for your food? It’s your birthday.” 

“What?! Don’t be such a fucking gentleman, Diaz. You already spent over 120 fucking dollars on these tickets. Actually, I don’t think I should be going to a concert after eating two burgers. Do you mind getting one and I get the other? You can have a bite of my food if I can have a bite of yours.” 

Fifteen minutes later, after Lyla insisted on paying for her food, the two of them were ravenously shoving bites of burgers into their mouths. The place was so packed all the seats were taken, so they stood in a corner at a standing-height table. 

Sean’s phone chimed and he suppressed a groan of annoyance seeing a text from his dad: _Enjoying the show?_

He wiped the grease and ketchup off his fingers to write back: 

_We’re eating dinner, show doesnt start till 8:00_  
_Also I wouldnt be texting you if misty mice was already on_

A single crying face emoji in reply. Sean snorted in amusement. Then: _Alright then, have fun and be safe. Try to be home before midnight. Love you._

_Will do. I’ll text you when the show’s done and we’re on our way home. Thanks again for letting us get drinks after. Promise we’re only getting one beer each. Love you too_ papito, Sean typed. 

Lyla glanced over. “That’s so cute that your dad uses emojis and says I love you all the time. It’d be nice if my parents did either,” she said, a little wistfully and a little bitterly too. 

Sean paused, and when Lyla didn’t elaborate, he replied, “The emojis do get pretty funny. Like he thinks the eggplant emoji is only used literally. Deadass, one time he texted--” Sean bent over the table, already laughing. 

“What?” 

“He said, ‘I’m using my biggest-- eggplant emoji-- for dinner!’ I almost choked.” 

Lyla burst out laughing. “Oh God, I’m lucky I wasn’t eating and actually choked when you said that! What does that even mean?!” 

“It means he cooked the eggplant he’d grown in our garden for dinner,” Sean sputtered, just as his phone lit up with a string of texts from Esteban: 

_HIIIIIII SEAAAANNNNNN_  
_:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D_  
_Noah and I made a castle in minecraft and I killed 16 zombies and 7 endermen!_  
_Where’s Lila????_

“Aaaand it’s Daniel on Dad’s phone again,” Sean muttered. How did this kid keep stealing both their phones on such a regular basis? He might as well steal a new phone from the store at this point. 

Lyla giggled as she read the texts. “Wow, _sixteen_ zombies?” 

“Gimme a second and you can text your boyfriend,” Sean grumbled. Then he wrote: 

_Hey gremlin_  
_LYLA is with me, we’re eating dinner rn_  
_*that means right now_

_I KNOW what rn means and I’m NOT a gremlin. Besides dad’s gonna see these texts and then YOU will be in big fat trouble!!!!,_ Daniel replied, followed by three angry-faced emojis. 

Before Sean could text again, Lyla grabbed his phone out of his hand. Sean chuckled and looked back down at his burger. At this angle, he could see the inside of the beef patty, whose center was a cool pink, along with the slightly squashed buns, ketchup-smeared onions, yellow American cheese, pickles, bacon, and lettuce and tomato. He’d love to freehand sketch the haphazard placement of his burger, soda, and fries, even in this shitty lighting, but a reference photo for later would have to do. He glanced over at Lyla, who was typing away and grinning. 

“Yo, can you quit sexting your boyfriend for a moment? I wanna take a photo of this.” 

Lyla nearly gagged, then sputtered. “Dude, stop. I would never sext Danny, or think of him that way. He’s 9. That’s too far.” 

“Okay okay, sorry. But ugh, _Danny?_ You’re gross. Can I read these messages or are they for your and your beloved’s eyes only?” He asked. 

“You can read ‘em, but you might find them nauseating,” Lyla replied and rolled her eyes. 

Lyla: _Hey daniel the not-gremlin! Guess who??? (selfie of Lyla)_  
Daniel: _HI LILA :) :D ^_^_  
Daniel: _How are you?_  
Lyla: _Doing much better now! Sean’s a real stick in the mud right? He’ll get in trouble for the mean things he said!_  
Daniel: _Yes and Definitely_  
Daniel: _I killed 16 zombies and 7 endermen in Minecraft today! Noah only killed 6 zombies and then an enderman killed him and he lost ALL his stuff hahaha!_  
Lyla: _Wow, I’m so impressed! Great job! You’re so much more talented than your brother_  
Daniel: _^_^ Thanks!!!!!!!!_

Sean rolled his eyes as he opened the camera app on his phone. “Great, now I’m about to upchuck my bacon.” 

“You can’t upchuck bacon, it’s _bacon_ ,” Lyla insisted. 

“ _Touché,_ ” Sean replied, and fiddled with the focus on his camera a few times before taking a couple of mega-closeups, so close the sesame seeds on the burger loomed. But there was too much going on. The dimensions of the photo made everything looked too cluttered, and he hated how the soda cup took up the entire left third of the photo. 

Seeing what he was trying to do, Lyla remarked, “I think that’d look dope as a Polaroid. Like, one of those sloppy artsy photos, or an oil painting, where the strokes are kinda wide and messy and not super detailed.” 

“Hmm,” Sean muttered. “You might be onto something.” He switched to the square photo setting on his camera and nodded approvingly. Now the cup was out of the frame, and the burger could be just off-center enough but still be recognizable as the subject and complement the half-eaten, greasy wax sleeve of fries. He almost couldn’t wait to get home and sketch this, but there was still the actual concert to go to. 

“Not bad. You’ve got a good eye, _artiste_ Lyla. Maybe you can take up photography.” 

“Huh, maybe. And thanks, Sean.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch the reference to the Belgian waffle vs bacon omelette with the Belgian burger vs bacon burger? (Btw, I would totally order both). Also, I love how Sean is an artist so I can add my own thoughts about how I'd take photos of subjects to draw later. If you haven't had either bulgogi or galbi (another Korean marinated beef dish) before, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GO TRY KOREAN BBQ!!! And Thai ice cream rolls and pork carnitas (the Mexican dish), they're delicious! And thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back! Now that LIS2 is officially out (WHOOOOO) I'll be posting chapters 4 and 5 today. Honestly after finishing episode 1 I just want to see more fluff of Sean's life before all hell broke loose. These poor kids :(  
> If you've finished episode 1 try to keep spoilers to a minimum in the comments for people who haven't played it yet. Thanks!  
> References: Fight Club, Sparklehorse, Bright Eyes, the "BBQ sauce vine" (you know the one), The Office, Spongebob, Snapchat and Instagram. The Misty Mice song titles are all made up though.

The weather was cool but not cold, and Sean felt the buzz of excitement grow stronger. His and Lyla’s conversation on their way to the venue quickly lapsed into what songs they hoped were on the setlist. Lyla wanted to hear their earlier, more rock-like songs, while Sean hoped for some of their techno and electronic tracks: “Come on, you know how dope they’d sound live? Amphitheater acoustics?” Sean asked.

“But like, that guitar riff in ‘Better Off Alive?’ That’s killer,” Lyla countered.

Inside the venue, they became giddy at the crowds of Misty Mice fans, all chatting away and walking around. They reluctantly threw away their water bottles as ordered by security, got their bags checked, and bought a $6 large Coca Cola to share (“Gotta keep these pipes hydrated, even if it’s 6 goddamn bucks,” Lyla said). There were long lines for the band’s tour merch already, and it took nearly forty minutes until Sean and Lyla were walking away with their new shirts. Still, neither of them wanted to change out of their current shirts, especially Lyla and her prized $60 one. The people attending were mostly teens and twenty-somethings, but they noticed a few younger kids walking around with band tees of the opening act, Ghoul Days.

“They’re only here to see the opening act? Kind of a waste of a ticket, don’t you think?” Sean asked.

“Nah man, they’d stay for Misty Mice. Makes me happy these kids will be able to hear the epicness of Misty Mice live, and then they can become fans younger.”

“You don’t feel bitter because you knew Misty Mice since their second album and they didn’t? I mean, now these kids are probably gonna call themselves ‘megafans’ for seeing them live even though they’ll only know like, 10 songs.”

Lyla’s brow furrowed in confusion. “No? Of course not. What do you see me as, some kinda hipster?”

“Uh, hipsters are cool. They’re not all pretentious.”

“Okaaay,” Lyla replied with a bemused smile. “But punks are cooler.”

“Punk subculture is cool. Punk clothes and hair are cool. Punk attitude is cool. Punk music is just heavy metal but with less screaming,” Sean replied.

“No it’s not! Tomorrow morning, I’m recommending you the best punk bands of all time.”

“Deal. And I’ll show you how good ‘hipster’ music can be and make you eat your words. You just gotta meet a few self-proclaimed hipsters, you’ll see,” he replied.

Sean scoffed. “They’re so different from punks, though. Can you imagine a punk and a hipster dating? What kind of music would they even listen to together?”

“Simple. Indie folk and rock, like us. You know, stuff like Bright Eyes, maybe a little Sparklehorse,” she smiled and added, “Imagine if they were both girls, though? Instant OTP. They’d be adorable together.”

“You and your ships,” Sean said with a chuckle. “Okay, let’s go. The opening acts are gonna start soon.”

“Wait, you haven’t even told me where our seats are yet,” Lyla protested.

“Uh, it’s section 210. Nosebleed seats; they were the cheapest ones. Sorry.”

Lyla looked at Sean like he’d just announced that he liked to eat sawdust. “Dude, don’t even apologize. We’re still gonna be able to see and hear them from up there. We’ll have a great time!”

* * *

 

They climbed a flight of stairs to reach their seats, and since they waited so long to buy their new band tees, it was only ten minutes until Ghoul Days came on. Sean glanced over and Lyla was pulling out her phone. He groaned, “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do.”

“Uh, obviously,” Lyla smirked, turning on her front-facing camera. “Come on, a concert selfie’s practically obligatory at this point. Just two.”

“Can I give you the middle finger in the picture?”

“No.”

“Bunny ears?”

“NO.”

“The salute of the Spanish Inquisition?”

“What the fuck?! NO! Just one silly face and one smile. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I never look good in these! Your arms are too short so my nose always looks humongous.”

“Then just sit further back, ya vain snob. Geez, even I don’t worry about how my damn nose looks in selfies.”

“Now you see why I hate ‘em,” Sean muttered. He scooted over. Lyla grinned and stuck out her tongue.

“What-- what kinda silly face is that? You gotta look hideous! Isn’t that the point?” Sean protested.

“No it’s not? OH, how about I make the Lenny face?”

Sean laughed. “Okay, that’s pretty good. Let’s see it.” He laughed even harder at Lyla’s disturbingly seductive expression. “Okay. Perfect.”

Sean gave himself a pig nose and crossed his eyes, since he hated his Squidward Tentacles selfie nose, and it ended up taking them five tries for both of them to hold in their laughter long enough to take a photo that wasn’t shaking and blurred.

Lyla said, “Okay, now, smile!”

Sean held his smile until the last possible second, when he immediately dropped it and drooped his eyelids so it looked like he was at a funeral instead.

“Sean!” Lyla protested when she saw the photo. “Ugh, you know what? I’m gonna make you laugh. Then I’ll get the photo.”

“Good fucking luck. I don’t laugh at everything like you do.”

“Try me.” She cleared her throat, paused, and then quoted in the most reedy voice she could manage: “‘Oh my GAWD! Okay, it’s happening! Everybody stay calm! What’s the procedure, everyone, what’s the procedure? STAY BLEEPING CALM!’”

Nothing. Lyla furrowed her brow. “Nothing? Damn. That one usually gets me rolling. Okay, here we go.” She squinted and quirked her mouth: “‘Who ya callin’ pinhead?’” She asked in a dopey, deep voice.

This time, Sean smiled despite himself and Lyla snapped a photo, then frowned. “Okay, no. You look constipated.”

A laugh escaped through Sean’s gritted teeth, but Lyla snapped another photo and grumbled. “Nope. Still looks like you’re taking a massive shit. Oh! Oh my God. I got it. I got it I got it, hahaha. Hey Sean?”

“What.”

“Hey Sean.”

“Yes?”

“Hey Sean?”

“What…”

“‘...So I’m sitting there, barbeque sauce on my titties--”

This time, right on cue with the Vine, Sean pitched forward, wheezing with laughter. He sprang to his feet, still laughing and coughing, and held his hand out in defense. “No, no, nonononono, getawayfromme, putthephonedown, stop, STOP!”

Lyla was giggling, walking after Sean like a zombie, ignoring the bewildered looks of the other people in their section. “Come on, Seannie boy! Let’s take a pictuuuuuure!”

“Lyla, no--” Sean protested, but he had reached the end of the row and was cornered. Instead of just taking the photo, Lyla grinned devilishly and glomped him, leaning backwards with her whole body weight against his front and pressing her head up against his chin like a cat, saying, “Come ooooon Seeeaaaan, feel the loooooove, that’s it! Ooh, you’re starting to calm down. Shit. Drastic times calls for drastic measures. Alright, square up.”

“Lyla, I’m gonna fucking kill you if-- AHH!” Sean yelped and started giggling uncontrollably like an anime school girl, almost in pain as Lyla tickled his armpit. Her face was slightly grossed out though, because that area was pretty sweaty. But what resulted was a perfectly candid photo of Sean laughing and Lyla leaning against him with a grin, with the dimly lit stage visible in the background.

“Now let’s delete that,” Sean said, leaning over, but Lyla shouted, “Too late! It was the Snapchat camera; I just captured ALL that onto my story.”

“Agggghh! What?! How could’ve I not seen that?!” Sean groaned. “Well, it’ll be gone after twenty-four hours.”

“Nope! It’s already on Instagram too. The pictures and the video.”

“No! Damn it! Argh, fuck you!” Sean groaned.

”God, the things I do for a selfie with you… We’re lucky nobody stole our stuff when we got up.” Lyla sighed, shaking her head. They both returned to their seats and Lyla leaned over and sipped some Coke in the cupholder, lounging around in her chair. “So, did you listen to the opening band before getting here?”

“Yeah; Ghoul Days is cool. Some online comments were saying it went from like, pure heavy metal to indie rock punk,” Sean explained.

“Really? Wow. Usually it’s the other way around ‘cause bands go more mainstream as they get more famous,” Lyla remarked.

“Yeah, I read an interview and the lead singer said he made it his ‘mission’ or whatever to preserve the sound of classic rock, but it kinda became more punk-ish and indie instead. It was a pretty in-depth interview, like three pages long.”

“Dude, you don’t bother to listen to an entire album of this band but you read a three-page interview from them?” Lyla asked.

“What? That’s not weird. And I was listening to their album _while_ reading the interview!”

Lyla snorted, adjusting her beanie. “Just sayin’. It’s kinda nerdy.”

“What the hell, man? Reading isn’t nerdy!” Sean protested.

“Says the guy who still reads fucking _Chronicles of the Basilisk_ by Ariana Simard?” Lyla retorted.

“I-- damn. That’s cold. Well, you’re the one with an A in AP Stats right now.”

Lyla looked like she’d just been punched in the stomach. “Dude, you do fucking _not_ bring up school right now. We’re here to _forget_ about it for a night. It’s like the first rule of _Fight Club._ ”

“Now _that’s_ a good film to bring up. We should watch it again sometime. That movie is so damn quotable.”

“‘I haven’t been fucked like that since grade school!’” Lyla exclaimed, quoting Marla Singer, and they both laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyla is 100% a Pricefield shipper :) Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 5!  
> References: Sonic the Hedgehog (I only put these here to say I don't own anything lol)  
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS: I wrote a few song lyrics (only two verses) that are about fighting suicidal thoughts, but the thoughts are still in the song. There is also mention of knives and words relating to being “better off.” PLEASE be careful.  
> Also… other warnings:  
> There’s a brief mention of periods, genitalia and herpes in conversation. They’re not talking about sex. It makes sense in context, I swear. Sorry :D

The opening act came and went, and Sean begrudgingly admitted to liking one-- but just one-- of their songs, which was surprisingly the most intense, completely heavy metal one. 

As soon as the lights came on for intermission, Lyla sprinted like Sonic the hedgehog towards the bathrooms, yelling “I GOTTA PISS LIKE A RACEHORSE” with Sean trailing behind and calling, “Yes, I’m sure _everyone_ within a five-mile radius wants to know that!” After his bathroom break, he ended up waiting over fifteen minutes at his seat before Lyla came back with a look of utter misery. 

“Jesus Christ, that was the fucking worst. My bladder hurt worse waiting in that line than the bus on the nature reserve trip in seventh grade. And I couldn’t even cut the line because literally everyone else had to piss as badly as I did. Damn girls’ bathrooms and their lines. I don’t know why I couldn’t just use a stall in the men’s room. It only would’ve taken me 30 seconds to get in and out.” 

“Okay, please don’t ever mention your ‘bladder hurting’ again. That’s really fucking disgusting,” Sean muttered. 

“Come on, it’s a natural bodily function. Oh, and while I’m at it, my period cramps also hurt like a bitch. It’s like Niagara Falls on the first day. Not fun. And I have to take like, the absolute maximum dose of Advil.” Lyla grinned at Sean, who looked like he had when they were forced to look at pictures of mouths and genitals infected with various STDs in freshman year health class. And he thought _herpes_ was gross… 

“Niagara Falls…” Sean choked out hoarsely, looking ready to puke up his bacon burger and fries. 

“Oh come on, Seannie boy,” Lyla said, unimpressed. “If you want a girlfriend someday, you’re gonna have buy her pads or tampons at least once.” 

“Wait, there’s a difference between pads and tampons? I thought they were interchangeable. And ‘Seannie boy’ is just for my dad to say, thank you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re hopeless. I bet you think mascara is for your nose!” 

“Hey, when you’ve lived with two guys for the past nine years, you don’t gotta know. And mascara’s for your, um, your eyes? Is there even such thing as nose makeup?” Sean asked. 

“Not bad. You’re close, it’s eyelashes. And no, but foundation can cover anything on your face. Hey, what time is it?” 

“Uh…” Sean fumbled for his phone. “8:56, why?” 

Lyla’s eyes widened and her face split into a huge grin. “Oh God, they’ll be on any minute!” She stared down at the stage as if willing it to deposit Misty Mice on it right then and there. Then she leaned back, as if realizing something, and suddenly looked worried. 

“Um, Sean, I just want to say--” Lyla started, but right then the stadium was plunged into near darkness. A piercing cheer burst from the crowd, and Sean whooped and clapped, but Lyla only gasped in shock as the stadium lights came on again and shone on the seats. An electronic riff started playing, announcing the legendary arrival of Misty Mice. Both Sean and Lyla leapt to their feet, already knowing they wouldn’t be sitting down again until the show was over. 

Then he felt someone grab his hand and squeeze it. He looked up and saw it was Lyla, but even under the stadium lights, her smile looked strained and nervous. Glancing back and forth from the stage to Sean, Lyla even looked almost panicked. 

Sean was about to shout what was wrong, but right there amid the rows of screaming fans, Lyla suddenly surged forward and seized Sean in a tight hug. For a few moments she was silent. 

The lights pulsed around them. The place felt like it was almost rumbling. Screams, claps, whoops, cheers, and even sobs punctuated the air. But Lyla embraced Sean like they were the only ones in the entire stadium. She tilted her head up. 

In his ear, Sean heard Lyla say, “Thank you for making this happen. You are fucking amazing, dude. I don’t deserve a best friend as great as you.” 

Sean smiled and hugged her back, replying, “Lyla, I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t want to. It’s amazing seeing you so happy after so long. You’re pretty incredible, too.” Stepping back, he reached for her hand this time with a grin, squeezing it. 

“Now let’s enjoy this!” He shouted, letting go of her hand as Lyla managed a euphoric, dazed grin back. 

Just then, Misty Mice’s drummer literally rose up from inside the stage, already seated at his drums. The lead singer sprinted out on stage after the drummer. Her distinct waist-length, blue-dyed hair billowed around her like she was some sort of goddess (and according to Lyla, she absolutely was). Just as the guitarist and bassist ran onstage, the lead singer shouted, “How we all doin’ tonight?!” 

Sean and Lyla simultaneously screamed, “FUCKING AMAZING!!!” Then grinned at each other. A moment later, the first song started. 

It was the distinct guitar riff of “Better Off Alive.” Lyla’s favorite song. Then she was off, totally in the moment: bouncing up and down, eyes squeezed shut, already belting at the top of her lungs: 

_You say I’m a waste of space_  
I should just disappear without a trace  
This world, you say, it ain’t worth to live in  
But am I ever gonna give in?  
FUCK NO!  
‘Cause I’m better off alive, better off alive! 

_You, that voice in my head_  
Telling me I should just drop dead  
Every temptation, with every knife  
But what’s truly precious is my life  
Cause I know, I know  
I’m better off alive, better off alive…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 6! Credit goes to Phoenix and Wolf Alice for their song lyrics. Also warning: a few quick mentions of drinking, smoking and pot.

“Oh my God, that was fucking incredible. Oh my God,” Lyla rasped. Sean had no clue why she was still rambling when it hurt to say anything, but he listened anyway. Lyla looked like she’d just returned from Heaven itself, and she probably would have insisted it _was_ Heaven. 

“Like, opening with ‘Better Off Alive?’ And that transition from ‘The Pact’ to ‘Pacific Waters?’ Ugh, genius,” Lyla continued. 

“Pretty cool,” Sean managed to say, before lapsing into a coughing fit. "Damn cigarettes. Don’t let me smoke again. I need to be able to go to track meets and not die.” 

“Well, I’m still gonna smoke. And I know you can’t resist some good ol’ pot,” Lyla said, clearing her throat. “God, we need to go back and buy water bottles. That Coke wasn’t enough.” 

Ten minutes later, they pushed the venue doors open into the cold October night, both holding their new tour t-shirts in their plastic bags, water bottles still wet with condensation, and their bags. Car horns echoed along the roads, and the buildings practically glowed. They weren’t at the section where the Space Needle was visible, but the wind and drizzle felt distinctly Seattle. Still, even in the cold, Sean felt this warm, content buzz in his head. It was like being drunk without the alcohol, and he felt like grinning at everyone who walked by him. He hoped Lyla felt like that too. 

As if Lyla could read his thoughts, she flung her arms back, face tilted contentedly towards the mist-filled sky. “Feels like I’m drunk. I’m so fucking happy right now.” 

“I can tell. You normally hate the rain,” Sean said with a grin. “I feel like that too. Do we even need to go get drinks now?” 

Lyla laughed, unable to contain her giddiness. “Uh, fuck yeah? I ain’t turning down birthday drinks.” 

Sean glanced down the sidewalk, then up at the street sign. They were at an intersection he recognized. “I have an idea. Let’s just run all the way to the bar. I’ve been itching to run a little.” 

“That sounds terrible. Can we at least listen to some music on our way there?” 

“Fine,” Sean replied, before putting a song on his phone. He hummed, 

_"So sentimental_  
_Not sentimental, no"_

Lyla groaned. “No, not ‘Lisztomania.’ Those lyrics are impossible!” 

“But I know them!” Sean protested 

“Here, how ‘bout this one?” Lyla asked. Then, with a huge smile, Lyla started singing a different song instead: 

_"Shake your hair, have some fun  
Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone…"_

__She looked at Sean with a coy, but sincere expression as she continued: _“Oh, I'm so lucky, you are my best friend. Oh, there's no one, there's no one that knows me like you do...”_ _ _

__“What song is that?” Sean asked, smiling._ _

__Lyla gasped in horror. “You’ve never listened to ‘Bros’ by Wolf Alice?! They’re such a rocking band, right after Misty Mice! And they have ‘wolf’ in their name, so isn’t the band practically made for you?”_ _

__“Okay, that’s true.”_ _

__“If I’d known you didn’t know them I would’ve shown you wayyyy sooner. Here, lemme put ‘Bros’ on. There’s a demo version, a first version, and then the studio version. Personally, studio’s my favorite.”_ _

__“Can you play them in order? Like demo, then the first version, and then studio?”_ _

__“Sure. That’ll be enough times to memorize the lyrics. Oh, you gotta watch the music video too when you get home.”_ _

__“Maybe tomorrow morning.” Sean was still giddy, but he was more aware of his heavy eyelids (as annoying as it was), burning throat, ringing ears, and the beginnings of a headache now. This hangover was not gonna be fun._ _

__Lyla put on the song on her phone, the volume all the way up. Ellie Rowsell’s smooth vocals filled the street. By the second listen, Sean had the lyrics down, and Lyla turned on the studio version, a higher-quality, poppier, and somehow cuter recording. Finally they both said “fuck it” and started dancing erratically, wildly, all up and down the rain-soaked sidewalk, just like the band itself did in their “music video” for the original 2013 demo version of the song._ _

__Lyla yelled, “You dance like my dad!” between verses at Sean, who retorted, “Hey, at least I know how to dance!”_ _

__With some lines slightly modified, they sang:_ _

___Are your lights on?___  
_Are your lights still on?_  
_I’ll keep you safe_  
_You keep me strong_

___Remember when we cut our hair?___  
_I looked like a boy_  
_But you didn't care_  
_Stick it out together, like we always do_  
_Oh, there's no one, there's no one quite like you…_

___Ohhh, jump that 42___  
_Am I wild like you?_  
_Raised by wolves and other beasts_  
_I tell you all the time_  
_I'm not mad_  
_You tell me all the time_  
_I got plans…_

__They ended by yelling “MEEE MEEE MEEE, MEEE MEEEEEEE AND YOUUUUUU!!!!” After another listen of the studio version at full volume (even though Sean liked the grittier first version better, with its chugging guitar and more rock-like sound), they heard someone shout “HEY!”_ _

__They glanced around but saw no one, then gazed upward. A middle-aged dad was leaning out of their first floor apartment window right above them, and they could tell he was fuming even in the darkness._ _

__“Could you keep it down! People are trying to sleep here! And that damn song’s getting on my nerves!”_ _

__Lyla waved and grinned cheekily. “It’s downtown Seattle on a Saturday night, buddy! And this is one of my favorite songs! What’s the matter, don’t have a bro like my bro over here?” She slung an arm around Sean like the girl in the music video. He swayed on his feet, grinning, and waved sheepishly up at the guy._ _

__“None of your business! And you can show some basic decency and put in earbuds!” The man yelled back. “I don’t recognize you two, so I know you don’t live around here! So just get going, alright?”_ _

__Sean waved up at the guy at his window, calling, “Have a good night, man!” Then he glanced at Lyla._ _

__“We gotta run now,” Sean said._ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“We just gotta. Now come on!” And with that, he tore down the sidewalk, hearing Lyla close behind. The cars inching along in traffic were nothing to them, and the lights blurred into streaks of red and white as they ran and ran and ran. Sean’s head swam but he loved the rush in his lungs, the way the rain stung his face, and the pound of their shoes against the sidewalk through the rain-streaked night._ _

__Two blocks later, he heard Lyla wheezing, “Okay, okay, stop. Cigarette lungs. God.”_ _

__“Aw, come on. I probably could’ve ran another block or two,” Sean said._ _

__“Because-- you-- are on-- the fucking track team!” Lyla sputtered indignantly, doubling over to cough._ _

__“Uh, and you’re on the swim team? Doesn’t that use even more muscles than running?”_ _

__“I just-- joined this year, dumbass. That’s like-- barely four weeks-- of meets. And it’s junior varsity. I haven’t even gone to a tournam--” She coughed and muttered, “Ugh, God, lemme-- catch-- my breath.” Once her breathing leveled out, she stood up straight and managed a smile._ _

__“But… that was really fun,” she admitted._ _

__“I thought so too. I can’t believe we sang ‘Bros’ twice after a whole concert. That is a really good song; thanks for showing it to me. My voice is gonna be totally shot for a week,” Sean sighed. “Oh, I’m curious, when’d you find that song?” They turned a corner, onto the street where the bar was._ _

__“I think like almost a year ago?” Lyla replied, as they walked past a cutesy bakery with rows of pastel-colored cakes in the window. It was almost laughable seeing it only a few doors down from a bar with tinted windows and thumping techno music._ _

__“It was used in a fan video for this game I love, and then it was used _in_ that same game right at the end, so that freaked me out,” Lyla continued. “It was the first time I already knew a licensed track before it was used in-game. That game’s soundtrack is stellar, too. And the music video is the cutest thing in the world, by the way. Reminds me of me and Anna ‘cause they’re both girls in the video, but I actually thought of you whenever I listened to it.” _ _

__“Wait. You’ve been listening to a song about best friends for almost a year and you’ve been thinking of me the whole time?” Sean asked._ _

__“Yeah,” Lyla said with a shrug, as if it was the simplest thing in the world._ _

__Sean exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “Dude, that’s so fucking sweet. Thanks.”_ _

__“No problem. I think it fits us to a tee,” Lyla replied. She had reached the bar door first and turned back to smile over her shoulder at Sean. “Now let’s go crack a cold one.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got totally meta there. Apparently BTS exists as a game within the LiS universe :) The fan video is real and I was talking about this one, CRIMINALLY underrated and not nearly enough views as it deserves: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jM18GYpfGn8  
> Also, I know Lyla and Sean aren’t old enough to drink legally. I don’t have an answer for how they managed to score beer other than maybe they bribed someone to buy it for them. They somehow got drunk during the actual event before the game (his dad texts "omg you're already drunk"), so (shrugs).  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's October 1st, Lyla's 19th birthday! Here is the final chapter.  
> Warnings: a few mentions of sex and alcohol.

Immediately after the show, Sean had been convinced he had enough adrenaline coursing through him to keep him awake all night. But after one beer, the warm, giddy feeling in his stomach became an actual sleepy warmth in his throat and head. He hated that he held his beer like a middle-aged wine mom on a Tuesday night, and turned into a weepy, giggly, sentimental sap when he was drunk, but it was way better than being an angry drunk and accidentally yelling at or hitting Daniel. By the time they reached the train platform Sean was stumbling from fatigue, and Lyla had to text Esteban that they were safe and swipe his ORCA card for him. It was well past 11 PM, and since they had grabbed drinks after the show, Michaela wasn’t on the train this time, having taken the one before theirs. Sean collapsed in his seat, sitting in the aisle seat next to Lyla instead of across from her this time, and within minutes fell asleep.

A half hour later, Sean awoke, his head sideways, with something jabbing into his left temple. He blinked, yawning, and brushed some of Lyla’s hair from his forehead. He swiveled his eyes upward and stared at Lyla’s chin.

“ _Hola,_ bitch. Didja sleep well?” Lyla asked. She looked tired, but content.

He yawned again, groaning softly in pain, and shifted, lifting his head from Lyla’s shoulder.

“Ow. _Annyeong,_ punk. Sorry, did I like, fall on top of you when I fell asleep?”

“Nah, you fell asleep against your seat. I just moved you so your head was on my shoulder.”

Sean grimaced and rubbed his left temple and the side of his neck that had been stretched. “Y’know, if literally anyone else did that, it would’ve been a really nice gesture, but fuck you. That’s actually a dick move. Everyone knows you have the boniest shoulders.”

“Exactly why I did it,” Lyla crowed with a laugh. “Now come on, we’re home. You better wake up fast, it’s gonna be a twenty minute walk.”

“Ugh. This is worse than warm-up laps for track.”

“Aw, come on, ya big sleepy baby. I can’t carry you the whole time.”

“Shit. Would’ve been nice,” Sean mumbled, but stood up with a grunt and stretched. He rubbed his eyes, adjusted his backpack, and trudged after Lyla off the train.

It had stopped raining, but the night was colder now, and Sean shivered in just his t-shirt, still damp with sweat and rainwater. They walked in silence before Sean muttered, “So lame you can’t just sleep over.”

“I know, right? But noooo, the Momster says I can’t ‘sleep over at a boy’s house or have a boyfriend until college.’ Alright Mom, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll just continue sleeping over at Anna and Carol’s houses.”

Sean felt a little self-conscious being reminded that he was still a virgin while Lyla had lost hers to Carol already (though Lyla would’ve countered that it didn’t matter and “sex is never good the first time when you have no clue what you’re doing.”), but he continued, “I know Dad would’ve been cool with it, even if he doesn't know for sure we wouldn’t secretly bang or whatever.”

Lyla made a face like she’d just bit into a spoiled sandwich, saying, “Ughhh, nooooo. I don’t wanna imagine you naked and whispering sweet nothings into my ear.”

Sean nearly choked before he laughed, “Ew, me neither. Imagine me on top of you with my tongue in your mouth?”

Lyla clapped a hand over her mouth with a look of horror. “Dude, too far! I feel violated!”

“Sorry, sorry, that was weird, I shouldn’t have said that,” Sean said. “Uh, besides, I’m not the kind of dude who ‘whispers sweet nothings.’ What, are you into that stuff?”

Lyla stopped walking, sighed with resignation, and clapped a hand on Sean’s shoulder like a 1940s guy who’d do that and call Sean “sonny.”

“Sean, you fucking thirsty bitch. I do not wanna hear about your weird-ass kinks. Ever. And I’ll never tell you about my sex life, not even to brag,” Lyla said flatly.

“Th-they’re not kinks!” Sean protested, his cheeks flaming hot.

“Suuuuure,” Lyla muttered. “Let’s just drop the subject: add that to the first rule of _Fight Club._ We’re almost to your house anyway.”

“You think Dad’s still gonna be up? Or Daniel?” Sean asked. They walked past Brett’s house, which was thankfully dark and silent, and up to his front door, fumbling for his key. It took a few tries in the dark, but he got the door open.

“Well, there’s your question answered,” Lyla remarked quietly, as they saw Esteban slumped over the kitchen island sitting on a bar stool, snoring and still dressed.

Sean smiled, walked over, and shook his dad’s shoulder. “ _Papi. Estamos en casa._ ”

Esteban woke with a start. “Oh, _gracias a Dios_ , you both got home safe,” he said, hugging Sean before he could object, then walked over and gave Lyla a quick hug too.

Lyla chuckled and hugged him back. “Thanks for your concern, Mr. Diaz. Yeah, we made it back fine, after _the_ best night of our young lives.”

“Well, you certainly look-- and smell-- like you had a fun time. Now let’s keep it that way and get you home. Your parents must be worried.”

Lyla smiled again, but it was more strained. “No, no it’s okay. I told them when I’d be back. They’re uh, probably asleep… by... now.”

“Alright, well, just give me a minute. I think I left my car keys in the basement. I was waiting for you two and ended up falling asleep. Come on, Lyla, I’ll drive you home.”

“Mr. Diaz, it’s really fine, it’s only a ten-minute wa--”

Esteban cut her off with a firm shake of his head. “No way. I’m not allowing a young girl like you walk home alone at this hour.”

“I’m 17. I’m only 364 days away from adulthood.”

“Yeah, except you look like you’re still 12,” Sean jeered, standing behind Esteban, and Lyla glared at him.

“Sean,” Esteban warned.

“Sorry.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Now let me go get my keys.”

Esteban disappeared into the basement, shutting the door behind him. Lyla sighed, both contentedly and tiredly. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Sean heard the refrigerator humming and the ticking clock. Outside were the sounds of crickets and the occasional passing car.

Lyla turned. With the only light source being the lamp and its butter-yellow glow, the sweat on Lyla’s forehead gleamed and her hair was all over the place, some sweaty locks sticking to her jaw and forehead and her previously rain-soaked hair now frizzing up. But she looked the most content Sean had ever seen her in his ten years of knowing her.

She took the three steps needed to reach Sean, then said, “I’ll text you when I get home. I still owe you cake, so swing by my place tomorrow if you can. Hugs.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"You smell fucking terrible," Sean whispered. He felt Lyla's shoulders shake with laughter as she whispered back, "You smell like a hot dumpster filled with shit." Even though they both reeked of booze, sweat, and dirty rainwater, Sean closed his eyes and returned the hug, with Lyla resting her chin on Sean’s shoulder. After nearly ten seconds, she lowered her arms and stepped back, a tiny but steady smile on her face.

“Have a good night, Sean,” she said softly.

Sean smiled. “Already did.”

Lyla chuckled, replying, “Yeah. Guess I did too. It was alright.”

Just then, Esteban returned, whistling a tuneless tune and twirling his keys on his pointer finger. “Alright Lyla, you ready to go?”

“Sure am, Mr. Diaz. Thank you for the ride.” She turned to Sean and did a languid two finger salute. “See you tomorrow, hopefully, or on Monday,” then mouthed, “ _bitch._ ”

“Ugh, _school_. Don’t remind me,” Sean groaned, as he saluted back. Esteban went to open the door, his back turned, and Sean mouthed “ _punk_ ” back and flipped the bird at Lyla so quickly she could’ve missed it if she’d blinked. Luckily, she hadn’t, and stifled a snort of laughter.

“Bye,” she whispered, still laughing silently, and stepped outside after Esteban.

* * *

Amid the blinding sunshine piercing his window-- and his hangover made worse by his fatigue-- the next morning, Sean lay in bed till 11 AM coughing from his lost voice, trying to ignore Daniel running around the house, watching cartoons, and playing with his Power Bear action figure. He had only gotten up to use the bathroom from the two bottles of water he’d chugged to soothe his throat (plus six cough drops), but he’d have to shower eventually. Blinking through his headache, he finally rolled over and reached for his phone to check for new notifications. Two new texts from Lyla glowed on his home screen, sent at 1:12 AM the night before:

 _Lost my voice, as expected. Best bday night ever._  
_Thx again bro. Love u <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!  
> I think "Hola bitch" is the best thing I've written lmao. Also, “ _Annyeong_ ” means “hello” (the informal kind) in Korean. Since Lyla says _Hola_ a lot, I thought it would be cute that Lyla taught Sean some Korean phrases (and probably swear words too) and they exchange hellos in each other’s native languages.  
>  With episode 1's choices, I'm thinking calling Lyla will have some consequences that'll carry over into episode 2. I hope we get to see her or call her again.


End file.
